War Brings Changes
by InnocentFighter
Summary: A known fact about Italy is that he hates war. But why? Italy thinks its /his/ fault. History is doomed to repeat itself, or is it?


**Well, not what I had planned. Oh well, I hope you will enjoy anyway. I'm planning to do a lot of one-shots that have to deal with war and things of that nature, because history is full of it. So I got to thinking that Italy, may not be the loveable ditz we all know and love, he does have a lot of pain. While the italian empire was never truly ****_weak _****it wasn't that strong, so perhaps Italy is shown to be weak because he has a reason to be. **

**DISCLAIMER I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS **

* * *

Another war, another battle, its all the same when one thinks about it. Its a never ending cycle. Taking lives, winning, losing, loved ones lost, land gained, land lost. What makes them different is the names and who your fighting with or against.

The horrors of war had never been lost on Italy, he was a country that had many wars in his lifetime. At first, perhaps, he hadn't realized what was happening, what went on in and around his borders. He would sit with Grandpa Rome drawing and laughing without a care in the world.

It wasn't until _he _showed up in the picture. They had fun together and he never realized that he loved _him _until _that _day. Perhaps it was nativity and innocence that made him believe that _he _would return to him unscathed, yet another war come and gone. He hadn't witnessed a war but he had heard about them. In fact a lot of them went on, not around him he didn't think but further away. Maybe it was half a century, when his voice cracked and he began to look like a boy that he realized that this yearning that he had for that boy wasn't going to bring him back any sooner. He was never told that the war had ended years ago. His two parental figures hadn't wanted him to cause the pain ruin the child. Perhaps, that was the reason he clung on for so long.

It wasn't until he heard of the germanic union forming that with crushing awareness that this false hope, that whatever he clung onto now was going to get him no where. That it was too long and though wars hadn't been a big thought on his mind he figured that no war could go on for that long. That _he _wasn't coming back to him to eat sweets, that their happy lives that they could've had were nothing but childish whims.

He grew up and lead a rebellion against the man who raised and nurtured him along with his brother. They won, and then he knew what war was, that it was nothing glorious or valorous. It was unfair that his brother was able to return to his care taker and visit on a friendly term.

A phobia is what some call it, others call it self preservation, some of the crueler ones call it cowardice. He had long since forgotten the boy whom he was infatuated with, except he didn't. He knew that in his dreams he longed for the blonde hair blue eyed boy to return and linger in his embrace.

War was not what he thought it was, nor did he still understand it. He couldn't force himself to fight, others were doing it. Two nations in particular were at war with each other, constantly it seemed. France and Britain. They seemed strong and ruthless, Italy was scared of them. Not because they were slowly becoming empires that could surpass him, no doubt that the empire his grandfather had built would remain the greatest, no it was because the fought, without much care, maybe it was because they fought they thought themselves untouchable, _he _had once thought that, and look were that got him. Italy was worried because France and Britain could easily lose themselves in their fights, they could die before their reign began.

War changes people, he had seen what it had done to his beloved. He knew that his heart was a fragile thing, the metaphorical version at least. He vowed that he would never love again. Love was somewhere you had to meet in the middle on at times, and as a nation, sometime no matter how much you want to you can't.

* * *

Old wounds never reopen. It was something he had heard along time ago. Whoever said it was a liar, because right now, a large one just reopened and he felt himself bleeding out, but it was a slow bleed, not one that would kill him now, but later, he would die. Those eyes were _his _that hair color belonged to _him _that stern expression it was _his _not the stranger, who was never really a stranger Italy thought, with the funny accent and the intimidating air.

Italy tried to beg and plead his way out of the situation but when he was asked something, what he does not recall, it was something about his grandfather, he felt something he hadn't in a long time, he felt his heart clench in the good way.

He vowed to see if he really knew the man before him or if it was fleeting moment that was brought on by him finally going insane.

Being his friend was never in the plan, being a real friend, _his _only friend, was certainly not! He grew to like the man. Italy played the fool and nobody assumed anything. Except for maybe _him. _It shocked Italy when he realized that when he thought of _him _it was not longer its original meaning. War must've changed that as well since he could never do that it his beloved.

World War I came and went. It wasn't a long battle, it was short, like most others. He was pleasantly intrigued when the former British Empire and the Ex-british colony had fought on the same side. Italy was sure that the englishman would've finally learnt the cost of war when he lost the now American Empire.

Twenty years or so of silent suffering Italy had to watch _him _suffer. _He _worried about one man in particular, his ideals strange and new, but they gave the people hope and _he _needed that. _He _didn't want that man to become the leader, something of off putting about him. Italy had to agree.

By now it didn't care that he never thought of the original _him _he grew to accept it like many other things war changed. This war was different however, even though it was the same, power and land struggles. The difference was that the personification of the nation wasn't in agreement with his boss. Italy had never witnessed it. Maybe then that's when he finally stopped thinking about the original and looked at what was in front of him for the first time and actually saw _him _not a shadow.

He stayed at the beginning because he knew that there was a high possibility that this war would be easily won by _him. _The fear was back that if he closed his eyes for a moment or two _he _would vanish. That's why he was so attached, he told himself.

For maybe the first year _he _was like _himself. _Something in him slowly changed. At first Italy ignored it thinking it was his paranoia again. The change became more noticeable however.

_He, _before World War II began would sometimes smile at his antics, albeit a small one, that was gone a second after it was placed on his face. _He _would also care for himself, it was nice, Italy hadn't had this type of attention since the original. Soon both of them became rarer and then not even there. Italy panicked, growing more attached then what he had intended. Which ended badly for him because there is a fine line between loving some one who's a friend and loving a friend.

It scared Italy at the beginning because he knew that _he _would abandon him and never speak to him again, because in the mind of his boss, what Italy wanted was wrong, and even though he was a nation he would still get sent to one of those camps.

Italy ignored it for the longest time. _He _noticed it. He could do nothing about it. So Italy panicked. The war was going badly, he could lose a friend, and he was done fighting. _He _was destroying himself, it was obvious. Italy couldn't watch so he didn't. He left _him _Italy regretted it. It was wrong, it felt like what he went through when he lost the original again.

The war was over soon. _He _lost. Italy watched as _he _was punished yet again. But _he _seemed like he was glad it was over. When the terms were read, and the punishment dealt. _He _looked at Italy and something in his eyes made Italy want to sob. Italy wanted to punish himself because of what had happened so many hundreds of years ago. It was the repeat cycle. Once again something changed, and Italy could believe _his _eyes. There was something that was different and he couldn't figure out what it was.

Italy waited. The wall fell, everyone was happy, well except for the Russian, but that was not the point.

Standing there he waited. Where _he _promised. Italy didn't know if this was stupid he was about to leave when _he _showed up. Italy swallowed, he was caught.

Things were whispered, and actions done once they got home. Italy couldn't contain himself any longer, even if _he _wouldn't understand it.

"I was wrong in the beginning. You aren't _him." _Italy whispered.

_He _gave Italy a confused look.

Italy only smiled and said. "_He _wasn't you. You're _you. _War really does cause change, but not all of its bad."

_He _was still confused. Italy could tell. He smiled and he knew that you would explain in time.

Yes war has changes. Italy knew war was never a good thing. He hated it, feared it even. Feared the nations who relished in it. Knew what loss was, knew what love was. He knew everything but himself. _He _no longer polluted his thoughts. _He _was dead. But _him _on the other hand was certainly not, and promised not to be for a long time. Italy believed this.

* * *

**Woo~ Its done. I know its kind of weird how I wrote it, but I like it. I assume you guys can figure out who the two ****_he _****are, but here they are anyway. **

**Original - Holy Roman Empire **

**Second - Germany. **

**Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. I may do a spinoff of this one. I don't know yet. Later! ~IF**


End file.
